


It Happened One Winter

by Kammy



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: F/F, Gift Fic, IT'S LONG, Takes place in the TG oneshot, there's a sex scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 10:04:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5703604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kammy/pseuds/Kammy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Binge Eater. A gluttonous killer even among ghouls. A monster. One that Akira finds, against all odds, interesting.</p><p>She isn't an investigator yet. She's only a trainee at the Academy, one more orphan in a sea of them. But that's not going to stop her from giving her own shot at the Binge Eater case. There is nothing she likes more than a challenge, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Happened One Winter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UnusuallyNormal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnusuallyNormal/gifts).



> Sandro suggested that I try to add a smut scene to this fic. I decided, why not. After all, a 10,000 word fic that is also absolutely filthy is something I'm sure you would like. Right?
> 
> I was actually a bit nervous about writing sex involving Akira. The manga has a throwaway line about her being asexual, though it's something Takizawa says about her rather than something she says about herself. Still, it's odd to think of her as an overly sexual person so I kind of wrote her here to be gray asexual--not experiencing sexual attraction much but not incapable of it either.
> 
> Anyway, Touka's OOC and Akira's probably OOC too anyway. This thing was difficult to write. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The Binge Eater. A ghoul that specifically targeted young women ages sixteen to twenty. Known for its incredibly wasteful and gluttonous appetite, even for a ghoul. Also known for consuming a shocking amount of the actual corpses, leaving the victims almost unidentifiable.

Akira had a folder of clippings from newspapers, all the incidents that had been linked to the Binge Eater. Gleaning actual information from news media was an art, one that she had discovered she had a knack for. The reports were all incomplete and inconsistent, of course: still, they were useful. She had gone through them many times, figuring out what was certain about the Binge Eater, and what was not, taking note of any peculiarities she could.

“So the Binge Eater is an ukaku?” she had asked Shinohara.

He had laughed. “And how do you know that?”

She hadn’t seen any of the official CCG reports yet, of course. She was only nineteen—still a student at the Academy. They wouldn’t show a nineteen year old student the lab work on a case like this. “Well, looking at the accounts, I noticed a few things that might indicate he has an ukaku—you see, the locations of the attacks…”

Shinohara had listened to her analysis on how they would be optimal for an ukaku user, especially considering how similar they were to ukaku ghoul cases that Akira had studied at the Academy. She had looked him in the eye as she talked, and had watched him beam.

“Well,” he had said, belting out a laugh. “You’re absolutely right! But why on earth have you spent so much time thinking about it?”

She had smiled back. It had been a bit of a relief to see he wasn’t angry at her for being nosy about his case. “It’s my hobby,” she said. “I like to follow the high profile cases, make my own predictions, see how they turn out—I’ve been interested in a lot of your work too, Mr. Shinohara.”

He had worked with her mother closely—that’s how she knew about him. She was glad of the connection, it made him more willing to sit down with her and talk about his case. He wasn’t secretive. He shared all his information with her—surprisingly little, as it turned out, but with some solid hunches.

“Coffee shops,” he had said. “That’s always the best place to look. There are a few around the area the killings have been happening I’m going to search them out. Look for someone who fits the profile—it’s gotta be some young male ghoul with some sick fantasies, if you ask me.”

She nodded. It was a reasonable assumption, and one Akira shared.

They didn’t talk about Akira’s mother or father—Kasuka and Kureo Mado. But he mentioned them briefly, laughing, saying how much Akira reminded him of them and how proud they’d be of her.

It rang coldly inside her. Still, she nodded again.

Shinohara died the next day. Or at least, that’s when he disappeared. They didn’t find his body. He was disposed of too carefully, Akira realized grimly. Instead, they found his wallet. It was mailed to the CCG headquarters in a different ward, bloodstained, no return address or fingerprints or anything that might indicate who sent it or from where.

Akira wished she could have mourned. He seemed like someone she could have mourned, in another life. Maybe in a life where her parents survived to raise her and he had been a family friend. Instead, she only clipped out another piece of info for her folder.

The Binge Eater.

Akira was still only a student. But maybe, just maybe, she could be the one to bring this monster down. After all, she didn’t have anything better to do in her free time.

Frost was starting to gather on the edges of the windows every morning. It was the perfect weather to visit some cafés.

 

* * *

 

There was a waitress at one of the coffee shops in the 20th ward. Dark haired, long bangs. Wore them so one eye was always covered. Very small.

Akira didn’t notice her much at first. It was the man she had her eyes on—Ken Kaneki, he was called. He fit the profile Shinohara had: young and male. In addition, he was built and broad-shouldered, clearly rippling with strength. He was polite, like any barista would be, but Akira felt something, saw some kind of deadness under his eyes.

He looked like a killer, her intuition told her—so she trusted her gut. She had gone to every coffee shop in the 20th ward after Shinohara’s death, hoping to find a hint of what he’d stumbled on before his death—and he must have stumbled on _something._ There were a few men who fit the profile at the other shops, but she focused her attention on Ken Kaneki for the time being.

She didn’t pay much attention to the small waitress at all.

Not until she saw some man luring her into an alley, that is.

Akira recognized him from the coffee shop. He was a regular. She had gone enough to realize that. He was coarse and a little wild-eyed and he seemed to have a thing for the waitress. Akira had noticed that much because the man didn’t exactly bother to hide it. Obnoxious, but nothing unusual, she had thought at the time.

Then she’d seen him leading the waitress into an alley, realized that she’d only ever seen him order black coffee and never food and—it clicked.

Akira had always hated physical training at the Academy, and did not have the strongest combat skills. However, she did have a canister of RC Suppressant gas on her at all times, along with a small quinque knife: they were what the Academy allowed to young trainees for self-defense.

She ran after the pair. She made it just in time to watch the man slam the girl’s head into a wall.

“You fucking bitch!” he screamed, kakugan activating.

He aimed a kick at the waitress, but didn’t get to finish it before he got a lungful of gas, courtesy of Akira. He fell back, coughing.

He shouted a few more obscenities, but Akira silenced him with a kick. The gas was an excellent tool against weak ghouls—and he was weak, she assessed quickly. She managed to jab her knife in his eyes, like training, just like training.

His scream echoed off the alleyways. Akira kicked him down again. But she didn’t kill him. She didn’t have the time or the tools to, and after all, there was the girl.

Akira whirled on her. The waitress had collapsed in a clump on the ground, wheezing. She looked up for a moment, blue eyes wide with shock.

“H-holy shit,” she choked.

Akira grabbed her and tugged her up by the hand. “Come on. This way.”

The girl’s jaw dropped, and she stared for a moment like Akira was an alien. Akira ignored it and yanked her along.

“Hey, wh—ouch!”

 

* * *

 

Akira should have taken the waitress with her to the CCG, for her to be questioned by the people there. But doing that would have taken it all out of her control, and deprived her of any clues she could get personally from this girl. So it was selfish, but she didn’t. Not at the moment, at least. Instead, she made sure she wasn’t badly injured (definitely nothing besides some bruising to the head) and helped her home.

The waitress’s name was Touka Kirishima. She was a high school student, only one year younger than Akira herself. She lived close by, in a tiny apartment. When Akira saw the complex, she realized it was the rattiest place she’d seen in the otherwise high end 20th ward.

Kirishima stopped near the entrance, coughing. “Holy shit,” she said. “My throat is on fire.”

“That gas can be rather harsh on you when you’re not accustomed to it,” Akira told her. “It’ll probably feel like that for a few hours—sorry.”

Kirishima wheezed in response.

“Are you okay?” A thought occurred to Akira. “You don’t have asthma, do you?”

“No,” Kirishima said. “I’m just—holy _shit._ You just jumped out and knifed that guy.”

“He was a ghoul.”

“You jumped out and knifed him! Who _does_ that? Are you an investigator?”

“No,” Akira said. “I’m just a trainee. But I know the protocol—that ghoul is likely dead by now.”

She had called the CCG on the ghoul shortly after she’d gotten Krishima to safety. By now, she knew, they had sent someone to take care of him. She knew exactly how fast it took for the CCG to mobilize.

Kirishima was staring at her again. “You’re just a trainee? Fucking…” she shook her head, smothering another cough with her hand.

Akira stood there awkwardly, unsure of whether this was supposed to be a compliment or not. Kirishima was staring at her hard through her cough, brow furrowed, contemplative—afraid? Akira couldn’t quite read the expression. “Saving civilians is the CCG’s purpose. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.”

“Wow,” Kirishima said. “You’re… you’re a hero or something, huh?”

She said it with the same tone she might have said, “You’re a plumber” or “You’re a construction worker.” Like it was a fact of life, and not some grand title Akira had earned. Akira nodded without thinking.

Kirishima sucked in a raspy breath. “Thanks,” she said, sounding a mix between warm and grateful and weary. “Not many people would have done that.”

Akira blinked—being complimented felt unexpectedly nice. “Oh, you’re welcome.”

She saw Kirishima’s hands clench, eyebrows pinching together for a moment before she looked up, eyes wide. “Hey, you—you want to come up for a sec? I could make… tea.”

Her apartment was bare, messy, and more than a little worn down. There wasn’t even a proper amount of furniture. Some of the walls showed bare sheetrock. In addition, it was freezing, hardly any warmer than the winter air outside.

 _Poor and alone._ Akira felt her lips flatten into a line.

“It’s, it’s run down. Lots of space, though,” Kirishima muttered. “I’m renting it dirt cheap because of it—a real deal for me.”

Kirishima closed the door behind her. The gesture made Akira start, body suddenly at attention, a twitch running through her arm. Her fingers curled, suddenly aware of how trapped and cornered she was like this.

Kirishima held her gaze for a moment like that, her visible eye widened and her brow furrowed. “Uh,” she said, blinking in a way that reminded Akira of a startled rabbit. “Did I do something?”

She looked so small just then, so defeated. She was tilting her head to look up at Akira a little, frowning. Akira felt something rush through her—some sort of feeling as visceral as any sort of physical pain she’d felt in her life. She blinked again, jarred.

“Sorry,” Akira said. “You startled me.”

Kirishima wouldn’t kill her—Akira was suddenly certain of it, as sure as she was of any intuition she had felt. Kirishima suddenly laughed awkwardly, choking a bit at the end of it. Akira jumped, looking around for a glass.

“Here,” she said, grabbing one and going for the faucet. “Water helps. Sit down.”

When she flipped on the faucet, though, no water came out, just a sad sputtering sound. There are actually people that live like this, Akira thought, amazed. This level of poverty seemed so disconnected from the way Akira lived, more like a painting she was looking into.

“Shit,” Touka rasped. “The water’s not working—sorry, hold on. I have water in the fridge.”

Kirishima was up suddenly, buzzing to the refrigerator, taking out a jug of water. Suddenly she was preparing tea, oddly focused as she set the leaves in a small metal container and set them in some kind of electric tea maker plugged into the wall. She coughed again as she worked, covering her mouth to smother it, not looking at Akira. When she did, it seemed a little shy and cautious, giving her a bit of a smile.

“You can sit down, you know,” she said.

Akira didn’t end up getting much useful info from Kirishima. There simply wasn’t much to tell—that ghoul had shown up a few times and made passes at her, but it wasn’t as though that was an uncommon thing. Akira inched the questions towards Kirishima’s coworker, Kaneki, but nothing Kirishima said was any help. That was to be expected, though.

She didn’t get much information. But Kirishima (“Call me Touka” she said, laughing a little) made the best tea Akira had ever tasted, so Akira couldn’t find a shred of disappointment inside her.

Still, she swept her eyes around the place, and watched carefully, letting the observations and thoughts turn in her head.

In the end, she never had Touka go to headquarters to be questioned.

 

* * *

 

_“You brought a Dove into your apartment?!”_

_“No! Well, yes? She’s a trainee, so she’s not a full Dove yet.”_

_“Fucking hell. She killed Sato.”_

_“Okay, sort of, but Sato was an asshole.”_

_“That’s not the point! The point is that you let a Dove you had just seen knife another ghoul into your apartment.”_

_“Geez, it’s not my fault! I wasn’t thinking straight. I was going to kill her there but then I realized it would be bad if she disappeared in the 20 th ward right after that whole… incident, so like, yeah, I had to just give her some tea.”_

_“Tea.”_

_“Yes. Don’t look at me like that.”_

_“…”_

_“Anyway she said she was trying to find the Binge Eater.”_

_“…shit.”_

 

* * *

 

Akira ended up going to the coffee shop again and seeing Touka there. Touka brightened up when she saw her.

“Hey,” she said. “It’s my knight in shining armor!”

Touka’s voice was teasing and warm like the voices of the students at the Academy when they talked to their friends. It made Akira freeze up a bit, realizing she’d never taken part in these sort of lighthearted interactions. Touka had burst out laughing, doubling over.

“Oh wow, your face.”

“What about it?” Akira asked indignantly.

Touka straightened up and wiped her eyes. “Oh—nothing, you just look like, I don’t know, a robot that’s stalling or something.”

Akira stared.

“Nothing against your face—your face is really nice. Really, really nice, if you ask me,” Touka said, babbling suddenly. “Don’t you think she has a nice face, Kaneki?”

Kaneki, polishing a mug in the corner, gave a smile and a polite nod.

They chatted. Or rather, Touka chatted while Akira nodded back and gave some quiet responses. Somehow this turned into the two of them walking down the sidewalk after Touka’s shift ended, bodies close. The backs of their hands brushed for a moment accidentally. Akira’s fingers twitched.

Had she ever held hands with anyone? She couldn’t remember.

“It’s nice to be on winter break,” Touka said. “I’m working a lot of hours now, so that makes things easier.”

“Not because of the free time you get?” Akira asked.

“Pfft,” Touka said. “Well, that too. I get bored in my free time though. Not much to do. And then I get antsy thinking about the money I could be making if I was working.”

Akira nodded. “I think I understand.”

“Anyway so,” Touka said, changing the subject. ”How’s the investigation going, Nancy Drew?”

“Nancy Drew?”

“Yeah,” Touka chirped. “That’s a character from some American books I used to read as a kid. A girl detective, sort of like Sherlock Holmes. I never read Sherlock Holmes though.”

“I see.”

Touka looked disappointed for a moment. “Am I boring you? You look bored.”

“I’m not,” Akira said.

“Okay. I mean, I can tell you’re lying, but—shit!”

She slipped on some ice. Akira reached out immediately, snatching her by the wrist and holding her up. It was a moment before she realized she was holding Touka by the waist.  Touka’s eyelashes fluttered in surprise, then a smirk ghosted over her face. She leaned in, lips parting for a second.

“You’re such a hero, huh?” she murmured in Akira’s ear, laughing breathily. “How embarrassing.”

Akira hadn’t noticed any out of place feeling when she had grabbed Touka, but now she suddenly noticed her lungs had stopped, her breath holding instinctively while her pulse pounded in her ears. Suddenly he was hyper aware of the bit of skin she could feel from where she held Touka’s wrist.

Touka detached herself delicately and started walking forward.

“So,” she said airily. “We’re going to meet again, right?”

 

* * *

 

  _“…you got her number.”_

_“Yes. Don’t look at me like that. You know I can’t just kill her. I was just acting natural.”_

_“Really.”_

_“Yes. I mean, any normal human would have asked for her number. If I hadn’t, it would have been suspicious, and I can’t act suspicious and—you’re giving me the look again.”_

_“You’re an idiot.”_

_“No! No I’m not! This might be an opportunity you know. I can find out stuff about the CCG and—stuff. This is good. And it’s not like it’s a big deal anyway. I’m meeting her Saturday. Just once. I swear that’s all.”_

 

* * *

 

Touka turned out to be quite the big eater. She stuffed herself when they went out to eat, finished her plate before Akira was even halfway through with hers and then complained about Akira making her feel fat. Akira smiled at that, and found her responses easier to make this time.

Easier. But not quite easy. Something about Touka and her smiles and her pointed questions and her jabs made her feel on edge. Though perhaps, she mused, not in a bad way.

“So, anyway, this guy at my school, Fujioka,” Touka said. “He’s always mouthing off, always giving the science teacher shit and interrupting the lectures but I make _one_ remark, one! And then suddenly I have a detention.”

“That sounds unfair,” Akira agreed, absentmindedly.

“Right? Right?!” Touka’s voice was cringe-inducingly loud. “Ugh, I hate that guy.”

“Fujioka?”

“No, the teacher. Fuck him,” Touka sighed, leaning back. “I like school though.”

“Really?” Akira asked.

“Yeah. Learning stuff. It’s hard but good. Plus, it’s nice to be working at something that’ll get you a good future, you know? It gives you a good feeling.”

“Hm,” Akira said. “Yes, that would feel nice.”

Touka tilted her head a little at her. “Hm,” she said back.

The conversation continued, only interrupted when Touka had a phone call and had to go outside for a while.  After that they talked about life as a CCG trainee, since Touka asked. Akira kept her answers short and vague, though there wasn’t much to talk about in the first place.

“You look bored again,” Touka complained.

“Oh?” Akira asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “What are you even thinking about, anyway? You look like you’re thinking about something.”

Akira blinked. “Nothing much.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Do you really want me to say?”

Touka gave her a look. “Yes? Just, getting together and talking with someone without saying what you’re thinking is a waste of time.”

Akira thought about that for a moment. “That’s an interesting thought,” she decided out loud.

“Yeah, sure. So what’s on your mind?”

Akira rested her chin on her hands. “You’re under eighteen, yet you don’t live with your parents. And clearly you’re not in an orphanage. You say you’re going to school, and I don’t doubt it, but I have to wonder how.”

Touka actually drew back a bit. “Wow,” she mumbled. “Right for the jugular, huh?”

“Excuse me?”

“You know,” Touka said suddenly, ignoring Akira’s question. “I actually am eighteen now.”

“You said you were seventeen when I met you.”

“Yes, I did. My birthday was yesterday.”

Akira knew this was an attempt to change the subject, so she just waited. Finally, Touka sighed.

“Okay,” she said. “I mean, I’m surprised you asked, but here’s the deal. No, I’ve never lived in an orphanage. I lived with my dad but he kind of kicked me out a while back because he’s an asshole. Old man Yoshimura gave me a job when he heard about my predicament. I work to pay for school, and he helps me out.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Why did your father kick you out?”

Touka’s head dropped in what looked like disbelief. She ran a hand through her long bangs. “Wow, you really don’t know when not to ask questions, huh?”

“I’m sorry.”

Touka laughed a little. “Nah, it’s fine. But I’m not going to answer. That’s all.” She leaned forward. “Well, if we’re asking dumb questions, then how about this: why haven’t you taken me to your CCG headquarters yet? That’s some kind of standard procedure, right?”

Akira felt her lips twitch with annoyance as Touka referred to her question as “dumb.” It was only brief, though. She thought for a moment about what she was going to say. “Well,” she said. “I thought that you might find the authorities’ scrutiny unwelcome.”

Touka smiled. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

Akira thought back to Touka’s apartment, the way she talked and threw around low-end slang, the way she seemed to jut her chin out whenever Akira mentioned the CCG or any other form of law enforcement. “Intuition,” she said.

“You think I’m a criminal?”

“Maybe,” Akira said. “Or maybe you were part of one of the adolescent gangs in one of the other wards, or something. I—hm.”

She realized exactly how rude it was of her to say that. However, Touka only leaned in closer, eyes wide with innocence, a playful smile lighting up her face. “You wanted to keep me all for yourself then, Nancy Drew?”

Akira tried to find some sort response that would be appropriately lighthearted to match how Touka was acting. She didn’t. “At any rate, I thought it might be better to talk to you myself. And then I found out there wasn’t much you were saying anyway, so,” she shrugged. “No point in annoying you by forcing you to go to headquarters.”

“Aw, come on, just admit you don’t want anyone else to have me.” Touka winked at her. “Hey, you’re cute when you smile.”

Akira suddenly noticed that, yes, she was smiling. She tried to frown. Unfortunately, the thing stuck on her face and Touka was giggling. Maybe that wasn’t so bad though. Akira watched her, suddenly feeling something swell inside her, some sort of tension that tightened like the string on a violin getting close to breaking.

Akira ended up talking about the Binge Eater case, and her hunches about it. She brought up Kaneki, and Touka actually jabbed her.

“You like muscle-y guys?” she asked.

“No,” Akira frowned. She had never once been interested in a guy. “I feel like he might be dangerous.”

“Really,” Touka teased. “So that’s why I saw you checking him out.”

Akira sighed, frustrated. “No. Have you ever seen him eat anything?”

Touka looked up and away a moment, then shrugged. “We’re not allowed to eat when we’re working. I wouldn’t get a chance. Old man Yoshimura’s really strict about it.”

“Hm.”

“Wasn’t that guy you knifed the Binge Eater?” Touka asked.

“No,” Akira said. “The labs indicated otherwise. Different ghoul entirely.”

“Okay, well,” Touka said. “It still can’t be Kaneki. He’s a wuss. I know he looks scary sometimes, but it’s true. He’s a wuss. And anyway—he can’t be because he’s… you know…”

Akira raised her eyebrows. “No, I don’t know.”

“Ugh, I mean, he’s _gay._ 100% into dudes,” Touka huffed.

“Really?”

“Yeah, he’s got a boyfriend and everything. But don’t say I said that—he’s not really open about it and I found out on accident. Anyway, didn’t you say that the Binge Eater was some guy killing women because of some kind of sexual fetish?”

Touka’s lips were in a firm straight line. Akira looked at her, noticed her jaw was jutting out again, feet squared like she was ready to fight. Defensive, Akira realized, about Kaneki. That made what she was saying less reliable.

But Akira didn’t know anything about their relationship, so she just nodded. “That would make it less likely to be him.”

“Exactly,” Touka said.

 

* * *

 

 

_“…You told her I was gay.”_

_“Yeah, okay, it was a spur of the moment thing. Shut up. You said you liked guys better.”_

_“I was talking about eating at the time.”_

_“Close enough. Ughhh, you’re giving me the look again. Quit it. She said that I was some sort of sexual thrill killer. I don’t need any more judgment, thanks.”_

_“Oh, she said that? Well, glad I’m not the only one who noticed.”_

_“Go fuck yourself. I don’t fuck my food, okay? That would be gross.”_

_“Anyway, that’s going to be your last meeting with this girl, right?”_

_“Well…”_

 

* * *

 

 

Akira had nothing left to gain from visiting Touka again, or talking to her more. The possibility of there being a lead that Touka knew of was small, she had decided. So when she felt like going to Anteiku again, or calling Touka up, she found herself confused.

Still, she didn’t stop herself.

Touka was coarse and uneducated, and while Akira felt she could see flashes of calculation or brilliance behind her eyes, she certainly didn’t like talking about anything intellectual. She wasn’t the sort of person Akira had imagined spending much time with. So what was it?

It definitely wasn’t that Touka put her at ease. She didn’t. When they were together, Akira felt confused. She didn’t know what to say to Touka’s jokes or her sudden bursts of laughter over nothing. She had never really been a part of casual interactions like this, and it made her feel off-balance at times, unsure of herself.

Still, she kept coming back.

She could feel that thin string inside her tighten, straining like it was ready to break, and yet she kept coming back.

They played chess. Akira taught her, and Touka acted bored and then summarily got angry at the rules and complained about how she couldn’t remember them.

They went for walks. Touka would say she couldn’t stand walking somewhere without having a destination and she usually demanded that Akira race her somewhere.

They went out for mochi. Touka practically rammed her mochi down her throat, while Akira looked away, disgusted and embarrassed that anyone could eat so messily and partially amazed that she could even _enjoy_ eating like that.

At some point, Akira came to a revelation.

“Do you think we’re alike?” she asked.

“Huh?” Touka said. “Maybe. I mean, you don’t have parents either, right?”

It wasn’t something she’d ever told Touka. She sighed. “No, I don’t.”

And then she ended up telling Touka about how her parents were killed by ghouls in the line of duty, leaving her to be raised by the CCG. She keeps the story short, ending with: “I’ve heard they were thrilled to have me—that they had always wanted to raise a child.”

Touka is listening intently, yet Akira doesn’t sense much bleeding-heart empathy behind her attentiveness. “You’re after revenge, then?”

Akira sighed. “I’m really… not. Actually,” she frowned. She had never said any of this aloud to anyone, and yet here it was, spilling all out. “I’ve never felt a thing about the fact that they died—no grief, no outrage. I should. But I feel nothing about them. I suppose they died when I was too young.”

“Ah,” Touka said, nodding. “That’s how it is.”

“Perhaps I should feel angry at ghouls for depriving me of a family but,” Akira shrugged. “I don’t.”

“Really?” Touka didn’t sound convinced. “I would be.”

“I’ve seen others like that. Students at the Academy ready to go out and wipe out every last ghoul out of a righteous outrage over what they’ve been deprived of… honestly, it’s a waste of energy. Ghouls are simply…”

Touka didn’t say anything, but just waited.

“Simply like anything else in nature, like an animal predator, or a natural disaster, or a disease,” Akira decided. “It’s only their nature to do what they do. I don’t want to eliminate them out of anger, just out of a need to stop them from killing more innocents.”

There was a tiny pause. Then, Touka continued her teasing. “Pfft, okay, Ms. Hero. Damn, your motivations are always so noble! Ugh, you make me feel bad about myself. All I ever think about is my next meal or, you know.”

The smile suddenly disappeared from Touka’s face, leaving a blank look, turned away from Akira and towards something in the distance.

It wasn’t at that moment, but later that day, they held hands. Touka suddenly scooted in close at the park, leaning in, holding her hand delicately before lacing their fingers together slowly. When she had, she smiled: a pure, happy smile of a child who had discovered something incredible.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Hey, you know… geez I’m not sure how to say this.”_

_“What is it?”_

_“I’ve just been thinking about. Eating.”_

_“Yes?”_

_“And like—you don’t really kill people much, do you? You just… eat all the leftovers you keep in your apartment all the time.”_

_“Yes, that’s right. I only kill people that would kill me, or who would threaten my existence here.”_

_“Really, huh? So you’re like a pacifist?”_

_“Not exactly. I have to eat humans. I can never forget that. And I won’t just let people hurt me without fighting back—that way of life is unsustainable. But, if I can live off the remains of other people, why should I go out and hurt people unnecessarily? There are enough dead people in the world already. I just—don’t waste anything.”_

_“Wow. Really? You’re not kidding?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Wow. That’s really noble for a guy who has a jar full of eyeballs on his shelf and severed limbs mounted on his wall. Awww, you’re giving me the look again.”_

_“Go back to work.”_

_“Wait! I was going to say something. I’ve been thinking about… why it is I eat so much. I don’t feel as hungry anymore, but I don’t really feel like stopping either.”_

_“Do you feel guilty?”_

_“Hm, I don’t know. What’s guilt supposed to feel like?”_

_“What? It’s where you feel bad about yourself.”_

_“Hm. I don’t think I feel guilty then. Just, strange. Am I not normal? Am I weird or more violent or something compared to other people? Other ghouls?”_

_“…you kept seeing that investigator girl, didn’t you.”_

 

* * *

 

 

When they went back to Touka’s apartment, she was talking about the Binge Eater. This was something she found herself doing with Touka more and more—actually talking, letting herself say all the thoughts she kept to herself out loud. Touka was always willing to listen, always interested.

She might be, Akira realized, the very first to ever be interested in Akira as a _person._ Perhaps, that was why—

“He’s been inactive for a long time,” Akira said. “I think he’s laying low, perhaps because he got in trouble with other ghouls for causing so much CCG attention. And furthermore, before the killings stopped, they became more spread out. Before, it was only in the 20th ward. Then, the incidents were always elsewhere, all over the map of Tokyo.”

“Huh,” Touka said. “So he learned how not to shit where he eats, so to speak?”

“So to speak,” Akira said.

The killings had gotten spread out after Shinohara’s death. But Akira didn’t say that out loud.

“I think he’s still killing,” Akira said as she hung up her coat. “But he got in trouble, so now he’s not leaving bodies behind anymore. He’s learned to eat every piece, or maybe store it for later, instead of leaving huge messes behind.”

That’s why Shinohara’s body hadn’t been found. She had realized this months ago, and never said it.

“Uh-huh,” Touka murmured.

“And then…”

But Akira stopped, swallowing. She was in Touka’s place, for the second time, and Touka was closing the door behind them, just like she had the first time. Only now, she turned around, eyes lit up with a mischievous smile. Their eyes met and Akira couldn’t take hers away: suddenly something inside her was ready to snap. Her chest was swelling up, tightening, ready to burst. Touka kept her glance, still smiling.

“Keep talking,” Touka said. “I like your voice, you know? But come one, let me show you some of my renovations.”

Akira nodded. Keep talking—but suddenly she felt like clamping down again.

“Okay,” Akira began again. “The first thing—”

The first thing was the faucet. A new sink. Touka turned it on and off, looking from Akira and back to the sink as she did, giddy as a child opening Christmas presents.

“It works now,” she said. “See? Hey, don’t laugh at me!”

But Akira was laughing anyway, and Touka pouted at her. Akira reached out to grab Touka’s arm, to steady her own shaking perhaps.

It was the first time she had touched Touka herself. She withdrew her hand like it had touched a hot stove, alarm bells ringing in her head. Touka didn’t seem phased by her strange behavior, but just smiled. It was _her_ smile—playful, teasing, mysterious. Akira turned away abruptly.

“Okay,” Touka giggled.

Akira’s heart was thrumming as Touka kept showing her around, still prodding Akira to talk about the Binge Eater or _anything._ Akira tried to oblige, but she found it half-hearted and faked. All she could think about was the sudden thumping in her heart, the tightening of that string somewhere inside her, ever so close to breaking.

“Here,” Touka said, cutting her off. “New bed. See?” She pushed on the mattress, showing how bouncy it was. “The last one had bedbugs.”

She collapsed on it backwards, rolling around in it for a moment as though to demonstrate how soft it was, turning entirely over to bury her head in it for a moment. Akira heard her take a deep breath, inhaling the scent, and suddenly she was looking over the curve of Touka’s back and her bare legs and down to her toes, which curled a moment.

She looked so childish, just rolling around like that, not caring about putting on any sort of image for Akira. It was strangely—strangely intimate, to see her like that. So happy, over something so little.

Touka stilled for a moment, then she turned up, looking at Akira over her shoulder. That smile drifted over her face again. Akira’s knees suddenly felt weak and she didn’t know why.

“You’ve messed up the comforter,” Akira pointed out.

“Not nearly enough,” Touka replied.

An odd comment, but Akira brushed past it. “I suppose not,” she replied, absentmindedly.

Touka’s head tilted back a moment, her smile widening. Then, she scrambled to sit up, patting the area on the bed next to her.

“Sit with me,” she said.

Akira did. Then for a moment they both just looked at each other, Touka still smiling and _waiting._ It was the most uncomfortable moment of Akira’s life.

“So, then,” Akira said. She gulped.

She didn’t have time to say anything else, because Touka leaned in and kissed her neck, her tongue dancing over Akira’s skin. Akira stiffened, and Touka laughed again, but this time it was low and mocking.

“Your face is so red right now,” she told Akira, her voice not reaching above a murmur. “It’s so hard to get a blush out of you, but I like it.”

She didn’t wait for Akira to respond, she all but launched herself on her. Akira gasped. Touka’s arms were around her so fast, strong as steel, wrapping close and tight enough to squeeze the air out of her. Suddenly they had collapsed back on the bed, Akira’s spinning.

She had held her hands out during the fall, placed them on Touka’s body. To—push her away? Instead she found them clinging to Touka’s clothing with an iron grip.

Touka wasn’t kissing her now. She was just leaning in close, breathing on the skin of Akira’s neck.

“You want this?” she asked.

“What does… this… mean exactly?”

Touka leaned in, and though Akira only saw the top of her head she could _feel_ her smile. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“I—”

Akira’s face was so hot. Was this something she wanted? She had never wanted sex--never even _thought_ of it. She hadn’t even thought herself capable of it. It had always just been one of those things she’d heard of over the cafeteria--one of the many ways she was divorced from her classmates.

But she was hot now, breathing unsteadily.

Touka let out a bit of a whine at Akira’s hesitation, then she pushed herself up, still trapping Akira with arms on either side of her head. “No?” she asked. “Okay then, no biggie.”

She made to move off Akira, and Akira’s head suddenly rang with disappointment. Touka didn’t look disappointed at all, though—damn her. Akira snatched her by her clothes again, bringing her down a bit.  Touka’s face hovered above Akira’s a moment, grinning, their hot breaths mixing.

Akira’s head was spinning, floating away. Where were all her words? “Let’s… let’s see where this goes,” she managed.

Touka wanted her, and Akira liked that. She didn’t know if that meant she wanted Touka back, but stopping now, without trying--that would leave her emotionally unsatisfied. For the moment, that was all that mattered.

Touka’s smile widened and she leaned in—but didn’t kiss her straight on the mouth. Instead, her teeth scraped Akira’s jaw, lighting up every nerve under Akira’s skin, moving lower and kissing down her neck. Every movement was slow and deliberate, but not gentle. There was tongue and teeth and so, so much pressure, drawing out tiny noises from Akira’s throat.

She struggled to keep quiet, only for Touka to speed up suddenly, holding her tight and continuing her kissing further down. She latched her teeth onto the side of Akira’s neck a moment, pinching Akira’s skin, so close to biting right through. Akira squirmed a moment, a sharp cry escaping her lips—in fear? In pleasure? She didn’t know.

Akira clutched Touka’s back. But Touka stopped right then, right as Akira was sure she would draw blood, pulling back and laughing softly for a moment. Akira could feel that laugh on her skin, on that area of the neck she was sure would be bruised purple in the morning.

“You’re… stopping?” Akira asked.

Touka licked up the bruised area, drawing another involuntary shudder from Akira. “Do you want me to stop?”

It was hard to articulate, so Akira just shook her head. Touka rewarded her with another lick, and a tender kiss to that pained spot. Then, she tugged at the top of Akira’s blouse—actually tearing it open, popping off at least a few buttons as she did so. Akira started, tsking in annoyance, but Touka calmed her with a long lick up her chest.

“You’re so jumpy,” she murmured, kissing Akira’s collarbone. “So uptight.”

She was running her hands up Akira’s bare skin, all exploring every inch of her stomach. She wasn’t delicate with her touch; she was clumsy and demanding, feeling her as though she were trying desperately to take in every inch of her skin. Still, Akira felt her whole body quiver with Touka’s hand, her back arching and limbs twitching involuntarily.

“I want to,” Touka said, stopping to kiss Akira’s chest a moment, “want to loosen you up.”

Touka didn’t bother removing Akira’s bra entirely. Instead, she pulled it down impatiently, fingers curled around it as she lapped delicately at one of Akira’s nipples, teasing a moment before squeezing them lightly with her teeth. Akira gasped, hands moving to Touka’s head, clutching her by the hair.

She arched into the touch, moaning. Touka slipped a hand under her back and ran another up her thigh, casually making her skirt ride up as she mouthed Akira’s nipple, switching nimbly from painful nipping to sensuous, pleasurable sucking.

Akira was shivering. It was too much, too much to be touched liked this, to have someone’s mouth and hands all over her, steaming hot.

Had she ever been wanted like this? She’d never thought so. Frigid, stuck-up Akira—that’s what her schoolmates thought of her. How she’d thought of herself. And yet…

The air around her was so thin.

She felt like she could hardly breathe. Her head was throbbing like it does when one holds their breath too long, pulsing. It felt ready to burst at any moment.

Touka nipped and sucked her way down Akira’s abdomen. One of her hands slipped further down. Akira was wearing tights. Touka pulled them down, and Akira’s knees twitched together instinctively at the gesture. Touka slowed, stopping from where she was mouthing Akira to look up, expectantly.

Akira hesitated. This was all too sudden, too much all at once, some distant part of her said. She discarded that thought. “Don’t stop,” she said.

She could feel Touka’s _lips_ against her as she smirked, oh hell. Now Touka was back to pulling her stockings down, rubbing all up her bare thigh, massaging it, feeling it up in a way that was like…

…like being loved, or like being used? Exposed, vulnerable, a little violated—but somehow _wanted._

She didn’t know—either way, he could feel heat pooling deep inside her—lower and lower. Then, she stopped caring.

For now, just now, she could give in, go along with this—let herself feel, let her muscles turn into soft jelly under her skin.

Touka’s mouth had gotten low now, right to her waistline. There was a belt: she seemed impatient at it suddenly, pulling it out quickly in frustration, flinging it to the floor and then turning again to kiss all around Akira’s lower stomach again—all languorous and soft, lips teasingly making their way lower. She felt Touka fumble with her skirt one more time, unclasping the single button holding it there before pulling it down, revealing Akira’s pubic hair.

Before Akira had time to feel self-conscious, Touka was stopping for a moment, running her hand teasingly up the inside of Akira’s thigh. Then, she gave one long stroke with her fingers. Akira shuddered, convulsing at the touch. She looked down to see Touka smirk again, leaning her head on Akira’s thighs a moment.

“You’re so sensitive,” she murmured. “So wet already.”

Then, she was pulling Akira’s skirt and stockings the rest of the way down and—they were actually doing this. She couldn’t see anymore, but Touka was nipping at her ankle, slowly making her way up, kissing furiously. Every brush of Touka’s teeth sent jolts through Akira’s body.

“Relax,” Touka stopped to say, running her hands over Akira’s legs.

Akira did, letting her head fall back and sink into the mattress as Touka made it up to her knees, then started kissing up her thigh, holding her knees apart as she did so. She was so thorough, tasting every bit of Akira’s skin and moaning as though it were the sweetest chocolate against her tongue. And then she was so close, right there and—

She swept to Akira’s other knee instead, kissing it up in a similar manner. Akira moaned in frustration, clenching her hands in the sheets, her head thrusting back involuntarily. She wanted Touka’s mouth on her clit _now._ Touka seemed to sense her impatience, giving her another playful nip.

Finally, she felt Touka’s tongue lick up her labia and all coherent thought flew from her mind. Touka moaned right into her and Akira could feel those tiny, auditory vibrations running right up onto her groin. She trembled. Touka still moaning, grabbing Akira by the hips as though to pull Akira deeper into her mouth.

Her pace was controlled, steady. Akira squirmed with each new lick, louder and louder noises pulled from her throat each time. Touka’s tongue was so warm and wet.

Then, she felt Touka’s lips wrap around something small—her clit. She separated it from Akira’s labia, swirling her tongue around it, sucking, then lapping her tongue around it. Akira convulsed.

“Oh yes,” she moaned, and the sounds she heard didn’t sound like herself. “Oh yes, yes, Touka, please.”

The noise Touka made in response was practically animal. It sent shivers right up Akira’s spine, and she felt Touka’s hands grip tighter yet. Still, her pace didn’t change. She kept at Akira’s clit, flicking it back and forth with her tongue until Akira was practically thrashing.

“Please,” she repeated breathily. “Oh hell—Touka! Touka!”

She could suddenly feel tremors in Touka’s arms— _restraining_ herself, Akira thought dizzily. But then she didn’t think anything at all. She was losing control of both body and mind, thrashing without the tiniest bit of poise she prided herself on, a puppet to the hot sensations running through her. She gasped too dizzy to do anything but moan Touka’s name.

She came with a loud moan, shuddering, closing her eyes and sinking back into the mattress as every inch of her body felt numb.

When she came down from her high, Touka was clutching her legs, murmuring so quietly that Akira could barely hear.

“You would taste so delicious.”

Akira felt her insides tighten, cold tingles running up her spine. But no, that couldn’t be what Touka was saying. Maybe it was something like, “You tasted delicious.” Or…

A possibility flashed through Akira’s mind through her haze, thoughts of Touka’s teeth on her, that rough bite that had nearly drawn blood before She opened her eyes. Touka was rising up, draping herself over Akira, her one visible eyes half lidded.

“You’re so beautiful, Akira,” she said, loudly enough to hear. “I haven’t even touched myself and I’m already so wet, I can feel it.”

She started rubbing herself against Akira, moaning. Akira clutched her without thinking about it, holding her as she slowly got herself off. It was nice, feeling Touka so close to her bare skin. Nice, in spite of—

But no, she couldn’t be certain.

She felt Touka shudder as she orgasmed. Then, Touka was nuzzling right into her, kissing her neck again, wrapping her arms tightly around Akira’s waist.

“Did you like it?” she asked.

“Mm-hm,” she said. “I never thought I would, but yes.”

Touka nuzzled in again for a moment sitting up and then kissing Akira on the corner of the mouth. Akira turned, and their lips met. Touka kissed deeply for a moment and then trapped Akira’s lower lip between her teeth. Akira froze a moment, and Touka tug at her lip light, scraping it. Still holding it in her teeth, she giggled.

Akira’s heart has stopped. But then, Touka had let go, sinking back into Akira’s chest and nuzzling for warmth.

“My hero,” she said, and Akira could hear a touch of mirth underneath her tone. “Goodnight.”

And like that, they slept.

 

* * *

 

 

Akira’s dreams were of her parents.

“When are you going to bring a nice boy home?” they asked.

She said something about her work, about the Binge Eater case. She had been assigned to it, she said. It was important.

And then there was Shinohara, talking with her. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, but she was irritated by it.

“No, no,” she was telling him. “You’ve got it all wrong. Just because it’s mostly men who kill women like that doesn’t mean it’s impossible for a woman to do it. Therefore, we must take into account—”

She didn’t hear what she herself had to say.

She also dreamed of Touka. Touka laced her fingers with Akira’s, eyes wide and beautiful even in the hazy deformity of the dream. She said, “I love you.” Then she leaned into Akira’ abdomen, bit, and tore out Akira’s guts.

The dream ended.

 

* * *

 

 

_I’m the next victim._

Akira thought it right as she woke, stomach curling in horror. Touka was on top of her, sleeping. Akira detached herself carefully, heart pounding. She couldn’t wake Touka up. If she did—

But no, maybe it was only paranoia, washing over her after Touka’s strange, occasionally rough behavior and her dream last night.

Touka’s face was soft and peaceful where Akira left her. This small girl, the Binge Eater: Akira had never considered the possibility before.

Touka had always eaten food right in front of her, devouring it. But perhaps—putting it down her throat in a way that stopped her from really tasting it? And then, she always seemed to excuse herself, or run off afterwards. Not to the bathroom, she ever said. It was always a phone call, or she just felt like playing hide and seek, or—

Akira paced.

She went to the kitchen. The refrigerator had food, though. It was a little on the empty side, but that’s because Touka was _poor._ She was young and poor and she didn’t have anyone and—

Akira’s hand shook in the fridge hovering in front of the first item she had reached for. She… this was her emotions getting in the way, wasn’t it?

How funny—her, the frigid Akira who always got 100% on her test scores.

A part of her didn’t even want to know, just wanted to stubbornly view Touka as her—her damsel in distress, her friend, her… something else.

She examined the food. Yogurt. None of it eaten. Not even opened, yet past its expiration date. Milk. Much the same; Akira had to open it herself even though it had long since spoiled. Eggs; rotten. Everything—everything uneaten and most unused.

But that didn’t have to mean anything. Maybe Touka ate other foods, and was just bad about letting these items spoil before she used them.

Akira closed the fridge and checked the trash. It certainly wasn’t empty. There were used paper towels and the like, items for cleaning the place. But no food. Akira started digging.

No ramen packages, food refuse, or any sign of eating.

Akira turned cold.

“Hey,” it was Touka, from the other room. “Akira?”

_Oh no oh no oh no shit shit_

If Touka saw her there, going through her trash, if she saw her—!

Akira put the trash back as quickly and quietly as she could, and made to wash her hands. Touka came out of her room in a moment, bare feet padding against the floor, yawning.

“Wow,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. “You’re up early.”

Akira considered making a break for it immediately. She didn’t. _Play it off,_ she felt in her gut. _She won’t kill you,_ some deep instinct told her. Akira listened to it.

Not that her instincts had stopped her from getting in this fucking mess—perhaps she wasn’t as sharp as she liked to believe.

“I need to get back soon,” Akira said. “There is an appointment today; I almost forgot it.”

“Hmmm,” Touka groaned disappointedly. “Alright. You need to go now?”

“Otherwise I won’t make it to the bus in time,” Akira replied.

“Ah, sorry for keeping you, I guess.”

Touka smiled. It looked strangely predatory, now. Had it changed, or was Akira just seeing it differently? Still Akira managed to smile back.

She planned out the maneuvers she would use if Touka suddenly attacked her now, anticipating the moment just in case. There was nothing, nothing but the gaze of Touka planted firmly on her back as she made for the door.

And then Touka suddenly upon her right as Akira made it to the door, wrapping arms around her and pressing herself into Akira’s back. Akira froze, heart ready to leap right out of her chest. But Touka just stayed there—hugging her.

“You’re so soft and squishy,” Touka mumbled. “And you’re mean too, not giving me a hug goodbye.”

“I’m sorry.”

Touka let go, patting her on the back. “See you later.”

Akira left, heart still pounding.

When she had gotten far, far away, she let herself stand for a moment, cold wind hitting her face as she pondered why she was still alive.

She made a report to the CCG that very day.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Hey, you know?”_

_“What?”_

_“It’s nice to be with other people.”_

_“Yes? You just realized this?”_

_“Lay off. I didn’t have anyone but my family back in my old ward and I fucking hated their guts. But it’s not always like that. It’s weird. Is being around people normally like this?”_

_“This is about Akira, isn’t it?”_

_“Okay, maybe it’s about Akira.”_

_“Touka…”_

_“What?”_

_“You do realize this can’t end well, right?”_

 

* * *

 

 

Akira wasn’t there when they attacked Ken Kaneki. She only listened over the radio, given the favor of being able to observe from a distance as some rank 1 investigators took care of it. One of the higher ups praised her for her report and her observations, telling her to watch everything now, learn all she could.

“You’re destined for great things, Mado,” he told her. “Just like your parents.”

It rang coldly in her. She nodded.

Ken Kaneki was also a ghoul—but a weak one. Akira had told the CCG that she was suspicious of him as well, considering how Touka defended him and tried to take Akira’s attention from him. They had thought it worth investigating and, lo and behold, it was just as she thought. His whole apartment was filled with body parts, some in jars, some salted and mounted on the walls.

Disgusting.

His kagune didn’t come out. Not once during the entire fight, even though his kakugan activated. Akira wondered if it was possible he was crippled somehow, injured deep in his kakuhou so it didn’t work properly. Either way, it didn’t matter.

Touka came to save him.

What she heard of Touka over the intercom was entirely different from what she knew of her. She was roaring, voice rough with rage, inhuman. Akira flinched to hear it.

They didn’t catch or kill either Kaneki or Touka. Instead, the two managed to flee. The CCG took the human café manager in for questioning, a bewildered old man who knew almost nothing about ghouls and insisted that there had to be some misunderstanding. Those two were good kids, he said.

It was all strangely… quiet.

Akira watched it unfold, detached, observing as she might a police procedural on television. The next day, a sample they managed to get from Touka’s kagune—a smear of the ghoul organ left behind on some of the places she had attacked—revealed her to be the Binge Eater.

Touka.

She’d become so much in her life so quickly, and now, with this one afternoon, she was gone as surely as though she were dead. And she would be, soon.

_Touka._

Akira went back to her dorm at the Academy. She went over every picture of the Binge Eater’s victims, looking at every cracked skull and torn off face. She kept them in front of her eyes, staring, trying to burn the images into her mind. To learn.

It didn’t help. Her dorm room felt strangely empty, her daily activities hollow. So strange; she hadn’t minded living this way before.

She would have to re-adjust, she realized, to being alone.

 

* * *

 

 

Akira thought of finding Touka again, of meeting her. But she never knew exactly what she wanted from such a meeting. Not that it really mattered.

In the end, Touka found _her._

She was walking. Not going anywhere, simply walking. She found herself re-tracing a path she had trod before when she passed an alley and heard a hiss.

She stepped back to look down. She could make out only a shadow down the alley, a dark figure, but the shape was distinct enough for her to recognize.

“Akira,” Touka said.

Akira was pulled into the alley before she had the chance to run. Touka was fast: inhumanly so. Akira was slammed against the wall in an instant, hand over her mouth. Akira struggled a moment. There were self-defense moves she’d learned for situations like this. Yet somehow, none worked against Touka’s iron strength.

“Don’t scream,” Touka hissed.  “Don’t move a muscle.”

Akira went still, head dizzy. Touka: right there, right on her, furious. Her one visible eye was a kakugan: pitch black and blood red, strained with anger. Akira felt her throat tighten, her chest throb.

This was Touka. The real Touka. Seeing her like this, as she really was, made just how duped Akira had been sink in. The raw ache of betrayal blossomed in her chest.

Akira let herself go limp. She could wait for another moment, a better opportunity to break free and go for the knife and the canister of gas she had in her purse.

“Was it you?” Touka asked. “You told the CCG?”

Akira wondered if Touka would believe her if she lied. Ultimately, she didn’t care. “Yes,” she said once Touka’s hand left her mouth.

Touka looked down a moment. Then Akira felt herself summarily slammed again into the wall. She was expecting Touka to tear her apart right there, turn her into the final Binge Eater victim before the CCG caught up to her. She waited.

Touka let go instead, turning away, hands clenched with rage. “How long did you know?”

Akira’s head spun. Her knees were weak, wobbly, chest still throbbing painfully. Still, she stood up, keeping her voice steady. “Since that night.”

“What night?” Touka asked. “You mean when we _fucked_ each other?”

Akira didn’t waste any time. She drew reached into her purse for the can of gas. But Touka was too fast. Without even looking to see what Akira was doing, she flipped around, kicking the can out of Akira’s hand.

“How weak do you think I am?” Touka spat. “Do you think I’m going to fall for that?”

She kicked Akira down. It wasn’t any harder than the occasional kick Akira would take in sparring practice, certainly not as strong as a ghoul’s kick should be. Akira grit her teeth as she realized this. She was being toyed with again.

Touka was standing over her. Akira met her gaze. “Why did you do it?” she asked, voice rough.

“Why?” Akira asked, shocked. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re a ghoul! You killed all those girls.”

“They weren’t anything to you,” Touka said.

Akira narrowed her eyes. “Is that what you think, Touka? That just because they weren’t my family or friends that their deaths are okay?”

No response.

“You really thought that I would just—brush aside the fact that you brutally murder women? Why? Because—because we had sex once? Because you hadn’t killed me yet?”

“I wasn’t going to,” Touka snapped back.

“Don’t bother lying.”

Touka’s head tilted curiously. “It’s not a lie. I liked you. Is that so hard to believe?”

“I… I…” Akira swallowed, her tongue suddenly feeling too thick to form words. “You’re such a liar.”

“I’m not,” Touka laughed. “But I guess you’re really dense like that.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Akira said, her voice wavering. “I could never… never like someone who kills people the way you do.”

“I hadn’t killed anyone for two months,” Touka said. “Kaneki was helping.”

“So?” It was Akira’s turn to laugh. “Do you think that erases what you’ve done? Does that give those girls back their lives, give them back to their families?”

“Shut up.”

“You don’t _get_ to live a normal life after that!” Akira shouted. “You don’t get to have a future! You don’t get to be loved! That’s how it works, _ghoul._ ”

 Touka didn’t react to that, not at first. Then, in an instant, her hands were around Akira’s neck, choking.

“Shut up,” she mumbled. “You don’t know anything. I get whatever I get, you fucking CCG puppet!”

Akira thrashed. Her hands were free. She tried to reach her knife, but Touka had let her go and shoved her away before she could.

“I know you have your little knives,” Touka cooed. “Come on. I’m waiting.”

Akira gasped for air, slamming her fist into the ground. Still being toyed with, she realized grimly.

“Hurry up,” Touka said lightly. “Otherwise I’ll get bored and leave. You wouldn’t let an evil ghoul get away now, would you?”

Akira stood up. She tried rushing, pulling the knives out stealthily to cut through Touka at the last minute. Touka dodged nimbly, laughing and leaving Akira struggling to maintain her balance.

“It’s so funny. You used to think you had saved me from Sato,” Touka put a finger on her bottom lip, giggling. “All you really did was stop me from ripping his arm off.”

Akira slashed again. Touka dodged.

“You’ll have to do better than that!” Touka said in a sing-song voice, laughing melodically.

Akira sped up her slashes, inwardly cursing herself at her lack of skill at combat training. Touka dodged each one, eyes inflamed, grin wide on her face.

“Did it feel nice to be the knight in shining armor?” Touka asked. “To swoop in and save me like it was some kind of anime or something? Is that why it took you so long to figure out I was a ghoul? Oh wait, my turn how.”

All the playfulness drained out of her demeanor, replace by an ugly poison in her words. In a few moves, she had disarmed Akira and had her pinned to the ground. Akira struggled breathlessly. Touka shook her, sud

“You’ve ruined everything,” she hissed, voice cracking.

Akira tried to buck her or slip away. No use.

This was it. The end.

All the victims of Touka flashed into her mind: the mutilation, the broken bones… the fear Akira felt was searing, physically painful right down to her bones.

Touka held her pinned like that, expression unreadable. Akira forced herself to look up, gritting her teeth, eyes burning.

“Get it over with,” she muttered.

Touka looked down longer, still unreadable. Then, she stood up, removing her hands from Akira’s wrists.

“Have a good life, Akira,” she said.

Akira couldn’t quite place her tone. It was at once soft and exhausted. Disconnected, murmured as though Touka spoke through a dream-like trance, only half aware of what she was saying.

It was then that Akira saw her kagune, unfurling wings of blood red from Touka’s back, wavering like ethereal flame.

Touka vanished, sprinting deep into the darkness.

 

* * *

 

 

_“I didn’t kill her.”_

_“I don’t know why I didn’t kill her. I think that’s what I was going to do. I was… angry.”_

_“But you know? She made me happy for a while. Really happy. And that—that made me feel bad about killing her. Like, if I killed her, it would take away even the happiness I had back then. It’s weird and it doesn’t really make sense now that I think about, but I mean, why kill her if it would make me more miserable?”_

_“I don’t know what to do.”_

_“Kaneki… do you think I would be happier if I was a different kind of person?”_

 

* * *

 

 

Akira waited. They had assured her that if there were any more incidents that could be linked back to the Binge Eater, they would tell her. So Akira waited.

There were no incidents.

Akira had earned the recognition of the CCG higher ups for her work on this case. She graduated early from the Academy shortly afterward, making her one of the youngest ever to graduate. They had high hopes for her, they said. If she played her cards right, she could be promoted within the year, they said.

She was.

There were still no incidents that could be connected to the Binge Eater.

Akira sometimes would feel as though she forgot. At first, that seemed impossible. Touka thrummed in the back of her head as consistently as the flow of her blood, as clingy as a headache. But that was at first. It got better. She started to go through full weeks, occasionally, without thinking of Touka.

Sometimes, she even felt like one day she might forget entirely. But of course, that was a lie.

She became the one at work who stayed later than everyone else. She didn’t chat. She didn’t go on spontaneous walks. She didn’t eat with her coworkers. She didn’t laugh. If there was a party, she had an excuse to not attend.

She tried to be different at first—to be less like her old self, but every bit of small talk she tried for out had her zoning out when her coworkers gave an inane answer. Every lunch with coworkers had her listening to them conversing like friends while she stared at her food. Every party she forced herself to had her sitting at the edge of it, alone, feeling cold and dry and empty inside.

_I liked you._

Akira realized that after that, she could never trust those words again.

She still had every observation on the Binge Eater case she’d made in a folder, along with all the CCG’s official info on it. The folder remained right next to her bed, on the end table. She considered burning it. One night, she had even held it over a lighted match.

_Have a nice life._

The years passed. There were no more Binge Eater cases. But that was okay.

Akira’s file remained beside her bed. The marks on it grew steadily in the passing months.

Waiting.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Funny story. I had actually planned for a lot to happen after this point in the story. Probably enough for a second chapter. But, that would take a long time to write. So I decided to end it here, at least for now.
> 
> If you need me, I'll be burying my face in my covers from embarrassment.


End file.
